Saints Captive in Chains
by Lola Ravenhill
Summary: In the aftermath of a war, some things always slip through the cracks in the pavement-including two witnesses to Sirius Black's infamous massacre. A Harry PotterThe X-Files crossover.
1. Default Chapter

Many many thanks to Katie and Paige for the beta work. As the summary said, this is a Harry Potter/The X-Files crossover, and more likely than not there are sequels coming fairly soon. Check out my livejournal (link in profile) if you're interested in any sneak previews as they come up. Thanks for reading and enjoy the story!

Saints Captive in Chains

By Lola Ravenhill

There was an insistent prodding at his back. "Go away," he mumbled, burying his face in the soft substance beneath him. It smelled comforting, like moss and damp with just a tinge of exhaust and fertilizer in it. He could almost imagine a breeze ruffling his hair.

He was prodded (more like kicked, really) again, and this time a voice accompanied it. "Mulder, get up you stupid berk." From somewhere a car horn blared, setting off a pounding ache in his head.

Fox Mulder flipped onto his back, shaded his eyes from the sun, and glared. "What the fuck do you want?"

Douglas Kirke, a fellow Madgalen College student and very good friend, glared right back. "If you don't remember, we passed out in Brockwell Park last night after having god knows what at that Hallowe'en party."

"Ohhhhh." Mulder groaned, and hauled himself unsteadily to his feet, letting his dark hair fall into his eyes to protect them from the overly bright sunlight. It was his idea to go to the party. Even after three years in England he missed the American (and especially the New England) sense of the holiday and decided that this year he would try to recapture the feeling. Douglas had spoken to a cousin of his down at Kings' College, and so Hallowe'en was spent in the Herne Hill section of London in a series of dorm rooms accompanied with loud music, drunken students, and more than a few suspicious substances. The morning after, however, was never pretty. "What time is it?"

Douglas checked his wristwatch. "Twelve-thirty, or thereabouts."

Mulder winced, dusting dried brown leaves off of his trenchcoat. That, plus a sweater and jeans, was the extent of his Hallowe'en costume. Although he had the sinking feeling that he had some eyeliner and red and gold glitter splashed across his face, if the smears across the back of his hands were any indication. "What time did we fall asleep?"

He shrugged. "All I remember is that I was pretty sure I saw daylight." Douglas looked the worse for wear as well, with light brown hair spiked up in directions no sane human sported normally. "Look, you want to go find a pub, maybe get some food into us before we head back to Oxford?"

"That's probably a very good idea." Mulder winced and rubbed his temples, feeling the throbbing there increase as he stood up straighter. "Oh, hell."

Douglas laughed. "You know, for someone as smart as you are, how could you let yourself get so fucking pissed last night?"

"It's a bad time of year." While Douglas was a very good friend he probably wouldn't understand about Samantha. How could he even begin to explain, when he himself barely knew what happened? There was a bright light, screams, and then nothing until Mulder woke up a week later from an unexplainable coma. No, that wasn't the sort of thing he normally shared with people at all. "You were saying something about food?"

"Down this way." The shorter man led Mulder out of the park and onto the nearby street. It was a Sunday afternoon, and life was buzzing about, people coming back or heading to the shops, and more than a few students in a similar situation to them. The air was crisp, making Douglas pull the sleeves of his leather jacket down to cover his fingers and reviving Mulder's spirits just a little bit. A meal and some hair of the dog would help also. There was a vague tickling feeling somewhere in the back of his head. A harbinger, perhaps, but of what, he had no idea.

They walked for a while, looking for a pub that would take them in their current state. They received more than their share of stares. Mulder seemed to get the bulk of it; apparently All Saints' Day was not the time to be sporting red and gold glitter across one's face. "Hold up a second," Douglas said, stopping and kneeling. "I got to tie my shoe."

As Douglas laced his boot back up, Mulder leaned against the brick wall of a building, shutting his eyes and letting the sun warm his achy bones. He only had vague flashes of what he did last night, but he knew there was alcohol involved, and bodies whirling about beneath a strobe light. He remembered feeling frantic, that if he stopped moving the darkness inside would storm in and take over.

Without warning, a body crashed into Mulder, sending him stumbling against the wall and the other person tumbling onto the ground. Mulder got himself back together fast, and bent down to help the other person to his feet. It was a young man, the same height as he was with black hair and striking grey eyes. His garb was kind of strange, a loose sort of overcoat or maybe a bathrobe, but a guy with glitter on his face really had no right to ask questions. "Hey, you okay?" Mulder asked.

The man, who looked to be about the same age as Mulder, gasped for breath and looked around wildly. "Where…where are we?" Mulder glanced at Douglas, who took over.

"Herne Hill, in London," he provided, staring at the disheveled man with what Mulder thought was worry.

"Herne," the man mumbled, eyes darting across the ground. "Herne the hunter, with the stag's horns on his head."

"Leader of the Wild Hunt," Mulder chimed in. Sometimes the urge to lecture just overtook him. Not many people were fond of that habit of his. "Starting on Hallowe'en night wolves and hounds chase evil beings from the land and warn people of invaders."

"Mulder, shut up!" Douglas groaned, no doubt rolling his eyes. Mulder was too focused on the young man he was propping up to notice this though. He seemed to be undergoing a transformation. He stood up straighter, a sense of determination appeared in those grey eyes. He nodded once at Mulder.

"Cheers, mate. Thanks." Without another word the man continued down the street, walking with a quick and strong pace.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Douglas asked, shaking his head slightly.

"Every day is like Hallowe'en," Mulder replied with a shrug. They started to walk again, but were stopped by a commotion about thirty or so yards away being caused by the young man who had just run into them. He was facing another young man, shorter and rounder, with thin blond hair. They were in profile, with the dark haired man pushed up against a parked car. But something didn't seem quite right.

"What's he got behind his back?" Mulder murmured, his breath starting to speed up. This did not bode well at all…

"What?" Douglas said, taking a few steps closer.

The blond one shouted, loud enough to carry his words on and on. "Lily and James, Sirius! How could you!"

"The blond one, he's holding something behind his back." Mulder squinted, and leaned forward to get a better look. The one called Sirius had pushed himself off the car and stood straight. He looked as if he were about to say something. "His hand's twitching."

The street exploded, a burst of flame and heat and pressure. It knocked Mulder and Douglas back into the wall, choking on the cloud of dust and debris that suddenly arose.

"What the fuck!"

Coughing, Mulder took a few steps forward and waved a hand in front of his face to clear the smoke away. He could make out a giant gaping fissure in the middle of the street, the asphalt torn up and gathered into steaming piles. There were bodies scattered around, like rag dolls abandoned and tossed into a fireplace. He spotted Sirius, standing right at the edge of the massive pit, staring at a bloody pile of something on the ground. And he was laughing.

It was the laugh of the lost, Mulder knew from experience. When the world was crashing down around your feet and there was no hope at all to be grasped at, sometimes all you could do was laugh.

From out of nowhere another man appeared, older than them, and wearing a funny looking lime green bowler hat. He was pointing something at Sirius, and waving his hand at other people who were arriving on the scene. They surrounded him, and appeared to bind him up. "We have to tell them. He didn't do it, it was the other one!" Mulder took a few stuttering steps forward, only to be stopped by Douglas's grasp on his coat.

"No, we need to get out of here," he said, pulling Mulder backwards.

"Bu-but they're going to arrest him, and he didn't do it!" Mulder cried, his innate sense of justice wanting to do the right thing.

"Look, just trust me on this, Fox." Mulder's head turned quickly at the use of his given name. "I've got a wretched feeling that something bad is going to happen to _us _if we don't get the hell out of here now," Douglas insisted, and Mulder stopped fighting. Douglas had an instinct in him that, when it chose to show itself, was better than E.S.P.

"Okay. Let's go."

Douglas nodded. "Good. D'you think you can run?"

"Yeah, I think so. Still a little sore, but I'll manage." He rubbed at his left ear. "And I think a little stunned from the blast."

"We'll make up some stupid story and go to hospital back in Oxford. Right now, we run for it." Without another word they turned and ran, not stopping until they were safely inside the nearest tube station.

None of the wizards investigating the blast on Half Moon Lane noticed the two muggles running away from the scene. They had far more pressing things on their minds.

The next day, in a slight haze of painkillers from the hospital (they had told the doctors there about a Hallowe'en and an early Bonfire Night party that had gotten a slight bit out of control. It didn't look as if the doctors believed them, but it was painfully obvious that that was the story they were sticking to) Mulder opened the door to his dorm room to find Douglas standing there holding up a paper from London. He handed it to Mulder, who took it with a puzzled look.

"Check out the article on the bottom of the page," Douglas sighed, coming in and collapsing on Mulder's bed. Mulder shut the door behind him (really, the whole dorm did not need to see his boxer shorts, all he was currently wearing) and sat on his desk chair.

"Gas explosion in London yesterday…Sirius Black…connected to a notorious organized crime lord recently taken down…plead guilty this morning…hauled straight to prison." Mulder tossed the paper onto the floor. "He didn't do it."

"I know. I know that, and you know that. But Scotland Yard won't believe it, if only because he pleaded guilty. We say something and we'll be laughed at and tossed out on our sorry arses." Douglas sat up, running a hand through his hair.

"This is wrong." Mulder stood up and walked over to the window, staring out at the watery sunlight of a November afternoon.

"Yeah, but we can't do shit about it. Look, I'm gonna go see Genny, try and distract myself a little."

"She's a lunatic. Lovely girl, but a lunatic." Innogen, or Genny, was Douglas's girlfriend who worked at one of the libraries in town.

"She's just eccentric," Douglas smirked, pushing himself off the bed and walking over to the door.

"She keeps a pet owl, and ties little bits of paper to its legs for some inexplicable reason."

"Yeah, but I love her anyway." Douglas stopped for a moment near the door, then turned around to face Mulder's back. "Look, Mulder, go out, get pissed as all hell, get laid, and just forget about it. Just put it out of your head, because there's nothing a couple of idiot Uni kids like us can do."

Mulder just nodded, still staring out the window, at the bare branches like stag's antlers. He would try to forget, forget the feeling of helplessness and the sense that something should be done, but it would not be an easy task. And as hard as he would try to put it out of his mind, he had the very strong feeling that this was something he would probably never forget.


	2. Chapter 2

I admit, I hadn't really planned on ever submitting this piece for publishing, but I'm debating the merits of linking this story to my other HP / XF crossover, Unintended. This is the part that would provide a true bridge between the two stories, so I'm tossing it out there to the masses to get opinions on if the two stories should be linked or if I should just leave the two worlds on their own? I'll warn you right now - this is an OLD story, and it was intended to be a one-shot sequel to 'Saints Captive in Chains'. I know it was originally written before Deathly Hallows, possibly even before Half Blood Prince. I need to learn to start dating my stories...

Thanks for reading, and let me know your thoughts on the above matter!

* * *

December, 1982

When it came down to it, it really was a farce of a baptism. Douglas's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Kirke, were the only ones who were insisting upon it, while Douglas felt the C of E was a load of bunk, and Innogen's family couldn't really give a toss, feeling it much safer to dedicate a child to Merlin rather than some nebulous figure one couldn't even be sure existed. Mr. and Mrs. Kirke, however, were formidable figures and Douglas felt it safest not to get on their bad side.

So two days before Christmas, when baby Andrew was only a few weeks old, a rather unusual group assembled in St. Justin's Church to celebrate his dedication to a life of Christ (or Merlin, or Reticulans, depending on who was viewing the ceremony).

"I don't think I was even baptized myself," Fox Mulder muttered under his breath to Douglas, who had a strong grip on his arm and was bodily hauling him into the church.

"It doesn't matter," he said through gritted teeth. "Genny is brilliant at forging papers. The reverend won't know the difference. Besides," the two stopped half way up the main center aisle, "if something happens to me or Genny, this is one way that will guarantee that you can take care of Andrew."

"I can't even keep a houseplant alive, and you want me to take care of a kid?" Mulder shook his head. "And they said I was the crazy one."

"Your sanity is still in doubt. However, I trust you more than any sort of child welfare program out there, so call this a precautionary measure. Besides, more likely than not one of Genny's choices will become guardian before you, so unless they both cark it, I think you're all right," Douglas sighed as he opened the front door to the church. A musty smell, that of old people and incense, drifted out at them. Light spilled out onto the front steps, gilding Mulder and Douglas. "Now come on," Douglas grunted, tightening his grip on Mulder's arm and propelling him into the church.

Everything Mulder had heard told him that baptisms were traditionally done on Sundays right after the service, but apparently Genny's choice for Godfather was unavoidably indisposed that day, so could they possibly reschedule it for right after one of the nightly masses? She would appreciate it ever so much. There was no doubt she was a schmoozer, and the new assets that came with being a nursing mother didn't hurt the cause either. Genny was currently standing at the top of the aisle, giving her parents slightly nervous looks as they chatted with the priest. They had made a good effort though at dressing like…normal people (he couldn't remember the word the wizards used). It was only when Mrs. Bunting's fox stole turned its head and winked at him that he gulped.

Part of him was extremely surprised and shocked to learn about the wizarding world, and yet the other part…the other part was more than accepting of it. It felt like a place where he could be comfortable, where people wouldn't blink when he told them that his sister vanished in a flash of light one dark night. And if wizards and magic existed, why couldn't other things…

So there he stood with the other three godparents-to-be, a quite obviously witchy woman cooing over baby Andrew (it could have been the wand sticking out of a pocket of her skirt that gave it away), and a pale, tall and skinny young man about Mulder's age hovering on the other side of her. The young man looked a little on the sickly side, skin stretched just a wee bit too tight over the cheekbones and dark circles adorning the skin under his eyes. His hair was impeccably combed, however. He assumed he was a wizard, being one of Genny's friends, although he looked as if he belonged better than any of the witches and wizards there in the slightly worn normal suit he was wearing. Better than Mulder's sweater and trousers, anyway. There was also a bit of an air of sadness about him as well. Mulder wouldn't have picked up on it except for something he had overheard Genny say to the young man as they hid behind a pillar before the ceremony started.

'Look, I know things have been impossibly hard for you these past two years, but you've got to pull out of it! Contrary to what you believe, there are still people who care about you, that your life isn't a total barren wasteland and that all you're good for is to go off and…and die in the woods! I want you to be godfather to Andrew because I trust you, and if something happens to Douglas and I, I want you to be in Andrew's life. I know he's not Harry, but you need Andrew just as much as he needs you…'

Mulder couldn't hear the man's reply, but whatever it was made Genny walk out from behind the pillar with a large smile on her face, and the young man trailing after her looking quite sheepish. By that time the ceremony was running just slightly late, so they all took their seats under the glare of the reverend's eyes.

After that everything went fairly fast. The participants spoke their parts when necessary (it really did feel more like a play than any sort of religious ceremony), the parents beamed, and Mrs. Kirke dabbed her eyes every so often with a handkerchief that wasn't much more than a bundle of lace. Eventually it was all over, and they adjourned to a local restaurant for a post-ceremony dinner, and no student was stupid enough to turn down free food, especially if it wasn't takeaway curry (the dinner was on the grandparents Kirke). They had hired a private room so the wizards could be as wizard-like as they so chose. Mrs. Bunting's fox stole got off of her shoulders and started scampering around the room like a puppy, taking special care to rub up against the legs of the other Fox in the room.

Even though it was only the beginning of the appetizer course of the meal, Mulder was already starting to feel a bit claustrophobic in the atmosphere, a little off balance. The women were still lavishing all of their attention on Andrew, and Douglas was rubbing his head while speaking to his father, no doubt trying to explain something the man just wasn't getting. Mr. Bunting and the other young wizard were talking about magic, some of the Latin-sounding words sailing completely over his head. He decided it was the perfect time to sneak back out to the bar for another pint.

Douglas caught up to him as he was perched on a stool nursing his second pint. "You did good today, mate," he said, sinking down beside him and signaling for a refill of his own drink.

"I didn't do much aside from nod and repeat what I was told to," Mulder sighed into his lager. "And I think I almost dropped Andrew at one point."

"So did Sylvan. Babies are awfully resilient though, you know. Bounce 'em and they come back giggling."

"And you've tested this hypothesis out first hand? I'm sure Genny must have appreciated the hell out of that."

Douglas shrugged. "It's a metaphor. Us former Literature majors love metaphors."

"I think I might have minored in English lit my first time 'round," Mulder mumbled.

"And now look what's happened to you. Thinking you can do your doctorate in psychology." He shook his head with mock-sadness. "How science can fuck with a man's head."

"Are you sure you weren't dipping into the sacramental wine during the baptism?" Mulder said, tugging at Douglas's pint to get a look at just what was in his glass.

"You're a regular riot, Fox." He pulled his drink back towards him and took another draught. "Seriously, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just the time of year that does it sometimes." At the other end of the bar, a man began to drunkenly sing the second verse to 'Once in Royal David's City.'

'He came down from earth to heaven, through his own redeeming love…'

"The alien baby Jesus came down from Earth?" Douglas snickered.

"Okay, that's it," Mulder said, slipping off his stool and dragging Douglas to his feet. "You, get back in there and stay with your family. I'm going outside for a smoke."

"But…!"

"No buts, otherwise we're both going to get it from Genny, and as we both well know, that would not be fun." He gave Douglas a sharp push in the direction of the room. "Go!" With that, Mulder turned himself and walked out the front door.

It was a clear night, with the stars quite visible in the sky. That one that was always burningly bright stood out, and with the air of Christmas all around, it was more than easy to associate it with the tale of the three wise men following the star to the birth of a very special child. "Westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to thy perfect light," he murmured. Even for someone who was as atheistic as he was, there was something appealing about the old stories, older than even Christianity itself.

Mulder pulled out his smokes. It was a bad habit picked up from his dad, one of the only things he passed on to him. That was the main reason Mulder was spending his holidays in pastoral England rather than back in the states; neither one of his parents could give him the time of day amidst their own activities. Over the past few years, Douglas and Innogen, and now Andrew, had become more family to him than his birth one. Blood ties could go fuck themselves.

As he lit up the front door to the pub swung open, letting out a shaft of light and the young man who was the other godfather. He pulled out a smoke of his own, reached into his other pocket, then drew it out again with a grimace.

"Fuck," he muttered, and turned to Mulder. "D'you have a light?"

"Yeah, sure." Mulder tossed his lighter over, and the young wizard quickly lit up, exhaled with a sigh of what could only be relief, and hurled the lighter back. "Cheers, mate."

"No problem. What's your name again? I didn't catch it when Genny introduced us the first time."

"Remus Lupin. You?" he said, his free hand moving inside his suit coat for warmth.

"Fox Mulder. I think I was so late Douglas didn't even bother to introduce me to anyone, just hauled me up there and told me to say my part." He shrugged. "I'm only here because Douglas wants me to be."

Remus nodded. "Same here. Otherwise I'd be…hell, I don't know where I'd be, but it wouldn't be here."

Mulder shivered. He really should have gotten his coat before he went out for his break. "So how long have you known Genny?" he asked Remus, who looked just as cold as he did.

"Since first year. We were in the same house at school," he replied.

"Houses, yeah, she mentioned those. So you're a, uh..."

Remus smirked, but just a little and not in a snide way. "Yes, I am a wizard. And I'm guessing that you're not."

Mulder shook his head. "Nope. Not a drop of magical blood in me."

"Sometimes it's better that way," Remus sighed. He looked up, his eyes seeming to land on the especially bright star Mulder was himself staring at before, and Mulder could have sworn that he heard a low growl coming from the young man. However, Remus then shook himself, dog-like, and the tension passed. "My mother was a muggle-"

'Muggle, that was the word,' Mulder finally remembered.

"-so I've seen both sides of the world. Both have their benefits and their detractors."

"If I didn't know any better I'd swear you were a muggle," Mulder said. "I couldn't tell the difference if I passed by you on the street."

"Which is a very good thing. Some wizards don't know the different between an overcoat and a bathrobe, so chances are if you see someone in a bathrobe walking down the street at three in the afternoon, they're a wizard. Or an escapee from the local bedlam," Remus shrugged, then glanced over at Mulder. "You know, technically I shouldn't be telling you this. It violates more than one rule of the Statute of Secrecy."

"My godson's a wizard. That's got to count for something," Mulder retorted.

A strange look came over Remus's face. "Or something."

"You okay?" Mulder asked.

"Yes, I'm fine." He took a drag off of his cigarette. "I'm fine."

"Okay."

"So you're studying at Oxford, right?" Remus asked. "I know that's where Douglas went."

"Yeah, Magdalen College. I'm going for my doctorate in psychology. Don't know what I'm going to do with it, but I'll have it at least," Mulder shrugged. His parents were paying for it, so it didn't really bother him. Most likely they were just paying to keep him out of their hair and let them get on with their own separate lives.

"I was thinking of heading up there soon myself. An old professor of mine is working on a research project there and asked if I'd like to help her." Remus looked all too eager about this-the sign of a true scholar.

"It's a good place to study-" Before Mulder could go any further a loud yell from inside got their attention. "That's Genny," he murmured. The two shared a quick look and rushed back into the pub.

Douglas was holding Andrew, who was fussing loudly, about two gasps away from a full blown cry. He stood behind Genny, who was nearly as red in the face as Andrew was. "Mum, I don't really give a toss if you think the good little witches club is making you embarrassed because Douglas and I aren't married! What we do, we do because it's best for the three of us, not because Mrs. Fawcett thinks it's improper!"

"But Innogen, dear," Mrs. Kirke chimed in, "what if you were just to..." If there was one thing the drastically different parents Kirke and Bunting agreed on, it was that Douglas and Genny should have been married before the baby came along, preferably before she started showing. Mulder, Remus, and Sylvan all moved over to the coat rack, sensing that a quick exit was coming.

"Please, not tonight," Genny said with a desperate note in her voice. "It's been a very long day, everyone's exhausted, I need to feed Andrew, and I've got a pounding headache. We'll have this out another time, when everyone's a bit calmer. We'll see you soon." Genny turned to find Remus holding out her cloak; she smiled gratefully and swirled it around her shoulders. As soon as Douglas and Andrew were similarly bundled up, the younger generation made their way out to Douglas's car.

"You drive," Douglas said, tossing the keys to Mulder. "I'm going to sit in the back with Genny and Andrew."

"I, uh, think I'll apparate to your place," Sylvan said, her face turning slightly green at the mere sight of the car.

"Okay, we'll see you there. It should only take us about an hour to get there, so if you wouldn't mind, get the kettle warmed up for some tea?" Genny said as she buckled Andrew into the car seat.

"Of course, love." Sylvan gave Genny a one armed hug, and Genny leaned her head on her shoulder for a brief moment in thanks. "I'll see you at your place."

After that they got on the road as fast as possible. They were currently right outside of London, having gone to Douglas's parents' family chapel for the service, and it would be a good hour until they got back to Oxford. Soon the only two awake were Genny and Mulder. Andrew had finally quieted down after a quick feed, and Douglas was snoozing away next to him. Remus was slumped against the front passenger side window, breathing deeply and evenly.

"I should have known this would happen," Genny muttered right behind Mulder.

"Your mother?"

"Yeah, and Douglas's parents. They don't like me to begin with, now they want to make me just like them."

"I'm sure they're just acting like they are because they want the best for all of you," Mulder pointed out.

"Most likely, but we're not kids anymore, that's rather obvious." She paused a brief moment, and Mulder imagined she was looking down at Andrew. "What's best for us might not be what they think is best."

"I know the feeling," Mulder agreed. "You mind if I turn on the radio?"

"Go right ahead. Just keep the volume low."

The music eventually became background noise as Mulder drove along the motorway back to Oxford. The stars gleamed in the sky above, and the sleepy breathing of his passengers accompanied him all the way back to Genny's flat. They parked on the street.

"Here, Douglas, you take Andrew, and I'll wake Sleeping Beauty over there up," Genny said, handing Douglas the carrier. As Mulder evacuated the driver's seat, she leaned in, her wavy chestnut brown hair brushing against Remus's shoulder. "Wake up, wolfie!" she hollered, sending Remus jumping about a foot in the air. Being as tall as he was, his head met with the roof of the car with a resounding thud.

"Ow, dammit, Gen! That's not funny," he groused.

"Oh, yes it is. We're at the flat, so haul your arse inside so we can all warm up, okay?" Genny said, backing out of the car. Remus hastily followed, and they all went inside. Sylvan was waiting with a platter full of mugs of steaming tea, with some biscuits on a plate next to them.

"Oh, bless you," Douglas said, reaching for a biscuit and then taking a long draught of tea.

"Happy to be of service," Sylvan said. "Just don't expect me to change Andrew's nappies."

"Do not make me regret choosing you as godmother," Genny called out as she went into her bedroom to put Andrew in his bassinette. A few moments later she returned, leaving the door open so she could hear the slightest noise. She flopped down on the couch next to Douglas, her skirt spreading out around them. Sylvan made herself comfortable on the floor, while Mulder and Remus shared the loveseat.

"I will be the best godmother ever," Sylvan said. "I'll spoil him rotten, and then leave him for his parents to deal with."

Tuning out Sylvan's proclamations of how good a godmother she'd be Mulder turned and looked at Remus. He was surprised to see him digging his hands into the upholstery, and his face even paler than he'd been naturally. "Are you all right?" he whispered.

"I'll be okay," Remus whispered back. "Just…bad memories." At that moment Genny looked up and caught Remus's eye. She nodded once, sending a message Mulder couldn't decipher. The other man could, however, and nodded in reply. He seemed to get a second wind then, and actively joined the conversation, vowing to one-up Sylvan in godparenting just like he'd done in Charms class back when they were in school.

Feeling strangely content with how things were at the moment, Mulder allowed himself to drift off to sleep, crammed into the corner of the couch.


End file.
